


The fallen and the burdened

by redheadandslytherin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Characters, Asexuality, Death, Gun Violence, M/M, Mentions of Violence, So much death, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadandslytherin/pseuds/redheadandslytherin
Summary: After the Burning of the Dolls, the city of New Albion became a police state. The strict regulations are enforced by the Blood Red Dogs, a military group that does not fear pain and does not have any qualms about handing it out. In this harsh time, Sam hides away in the old family home, hiding a Doll, Gabriel, in the attic. As they try to get by without the Dogs finding out about Gabriel, Sam wonders if there is a future for them in New Albion.





	The fallen and the burdened

Sam stood at the window, staring out into the fog that was refusing to leave the city. There weren't many people out on the streets, and even those few were hurrying to get home. The Dogs liked to use their power to ensure that everybody got home before the curfew. If they found someone on the street without a government-issued Blue Pass, punishment was inevitable. Just a few blows on your back with a rubber stick if you were lucky - weeks in the Freedom Corps factory if you weren't. The Dogs were always on patrol, and no-one knew when their house would be turned upside-down again in a raid.

His neighbour just lost his wife to the coughing disease last week. Sam had dutifully helped him to get rid of everything that belonged to her, down to the last hairpin. He liked the wrinkly old man and he didn't want to see him being dragged out onto the street to be executed for keeping a "token of the dead". He's already seen enough good people plead for their lives on their knees, just to be shot by a merciless Dog.

Sam himself had been lucky, so far. Even though he was the great-grandson of the inventor of the Dolls, the cause of this whole madness, the Dogs usually let him be. They still raided the old family mansion every few weeks, almost by clockwork. They never found anything. Sam made sure of that.

As the sun finally ducked down behind the mountains and the streets emptied out, Sam wandered down into the main hall, knowing that the curfew check-ups were about to start. Just as he reached the front door, someone started banging on it. "Blood Red Dogs, open up, McAlistair!" Sam smoothed down his clothing, made sure that he didn't have any machine grease on his hands and went to let the Dogs in. This time there were three of them; two old ones he already knew, and a younger boy, possibly a new recruit. They stormed into the house without saying a word and started tearing up the hall. They looked under carpets and behind tapestries for trap doors, checked drawers and cupboards for small items belonging to dead relatives. Sam sighed quietly.

They never found anything, and yet they continued to wreak havoc just because he was a McAlistair. He could hear the Dogs stomping around in the attic now, and he swallowed nervously. The secret door in the ceiling went unnoticed so far, but this time, there was a new recruit, eager to please his superiors. Maybe he'll notice it. Maybe this is his last day. Maybe this time, it will be him the Dogs will drag out of his home to force on his knees in the middle of the street. Maybe it will be him who begs for his life, claiming to be innocent, saying that he didn't know about the Doll hidden in the attic. He could say that it belonged to his father and that he never knew it was there. Maybe they would believe him. Sam snorted at his own thoughts. No Dog would ever believe a McAlistair. They wouldn't even let him finish his last prayer before they shot him in the head.

The banging upstairs stopped and was followed by the sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs. All three Dogs strode out of the door, not even glancing at Sam. The leader, a tall man with a scruffy, unkept beard turned back on the doorstep. "Until next time, McAlistair".

Sam stood at the door for a long moment after the Dogs left. He carefully locked the door, slid the chain lock into place and went about cleaning up the mess the Dogs left. He had long since learned not the leave any fragile things around in places that were likely to be pushed aside; the Dogs never showed any kind of respect for personal possessions during their raids. This was the second raid in just eight days. Sam was starting to worry, maybe they suspected something?

Sighing, he put the last picture - an old oil painting of the mountains in the North - back on the wall and rolled the rugs back into their places. He was lucky this time, there was nothing broken and not much to replace. He suspected that the more orderly rooms had most likely been searched by the new recruit. The boy seemed oddly young and innocent to be a Dog.

After checking that every door and window was closed and locked, Sam headed upstairs to the attic. He pulled the door closed after him, grabbed a pack of cards from one of the dusty old cabinets and stepped up on a low bench to knock four times on the ceiling. Soon after, a plank was moved aside and a length of rope descended from the gap. Sam gripped it and pulled himself up. It was a tight fit - before his growth spurt two summers ago he could climb through the opening effortlessly, now he had to contort his body in awful ways to fit. The only light in the secret room came from the candles placed on a table at the wall. As soon as Sam was up, the rope was pulled up and the plank was replaced. Cool hands gripped Sam's shoulders and pulled him to a too-hard body, gears whirring audibly in the silence.

"I'm glad you're alright", whispered Sam as they both stood. The creature in front of him snorted. "I could say the same about you, Samsquatch. This was, what, the second time this week? How long do you think you can keep hiding me?"

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly and went to sit at the small table. "I'm not having this argument now, Gabriel. Come, I bought some cards to play with." Gabriel huffed, but followed. In the dim light of the candles his non-human features were hard to see, but the rough soldering and the metallic shine of his skin still gave his identity away. He was a Doll, and old one at that. He was created by Sam's grandfather for a beloved lady, and had been passed on to Sam's father, and then to Sam himself. It was during this time that most of the dolls were destroyed, the only few survivors being hidden away in secret rooms, or taken to cities far away.

Sam strongly suspected that Gabriel was the only functional Doll in New Albion now. He'd seen another one shot to tiny pieces just last month, and their owner beheaded publicly immediately afterwards. He had wanted to run back home, then, and fall into Gabriel's arms but it would have meant death for both of them for surely he would've been followed by suspicious Dogs,and Sam couldn’t risk Gabriel's life. He’d had to duck into a narrow alley to throw up after seeing all the blood. He never told Gabriel about it.

"So, how was your day then?” asked Gabriel as he finally settled down at the table. Sam shrugged and started shuffling the pack of cards.

"Not much. I only went out to the market today. Other than that I've been trying to clean out those old trunks in father's room."

"Anything interesting?" Gabriel took the cards from Sam and dealt each of them a hand. They both took a minute to look over their cards before Sam shrugged and started the game. "Aside from a weird-looking glass eyeball and some old clothes? No, not really."

"John once told me that your great-grandmother's notes about the creation of the original Doll were hidden in some old trunk in the house. Maybe you should look for them."

They played a few rounds before Sam answered. "I think those were destroyed a long time ago. Or maybe taken underground by some Doll-worshippers." "Your father was a worshipper, too", added Gabriel quietly. They rarely spoke about Sam's father; he bought unhappy memories for the both of them. For Sam, memories of an unhappy childhood with a Doll-obsessed father and for Gabriel, memories of flames licking the metal of his body. He still had some spots of ashy black colour that refused to go away no matter how hard they tried to clean them off. His fingers creaked as he put down his next card. "Maybe I should go get some oil for your joints tomorrow."

Gabriel huffed. "No need to endanger yourself because of me, kid. My joints are just fine."

Sam made a face and put his cards down. "Gabriel, I heard your fingers creak. Last time this happened I had to spend ours cleaning and oiling them until you could move them properly again. I'm going out to get machine oil tomorrow. I can deal with the Dogs if they start asking. I'll just tell them I need it for the door hinges." For a moment they just sat looking at each other, but then Gabriel gently placed his cards on the table and stood. The quiet, high-pitched creak coming from his knees made Sam wince.

 "I really should maintain you better." "I'm fine, Sam. As long as you're here, safe." Gabriel walked around the table and carefully wrapped his arms around Sam's shoulders, resting his chin on the boy's head, nuzzling his hair. "Come, get some sleep. I'll watch over you." Sam sat unmoving, unwilling to move from the embrace. But he was tired and sometime during the day Gabriel had found some more blankets for the nest-like bed they had in the room. He rubbed his eyes and squeezed Gabriel's hand.

"Don't blow out the candles. I hate the dark." He crawled into the bed, pulled one of the fluffy, slightly mildewy blankets over himself and watched as Gabriel put the cards away. "Won't you join me?" Gabriel shook his head. "You'll get cold." Sam snorted. "You always say that. Just stay on top of the covers and I'll be fine. Stop worrying so much, and get over here." Gabriel sighed, but lay down on the bed with a smile. He gathered Sam into his arms and closed his eyes.

-o-

Sam awoke with a start. He was still wrapped up in a couple of warm blankets, but Gabriel was already up, sitting at the table and staring at his hands. Sam carefully untangled himself from the nest of blankets and went over to him. "Gabe? Is something wrong?" Gabriel slowly turned his hands over on the table, slowly flexing his fingers. The creaking seemed to have gotten worse overnight, and both of them winced at the sound. "Alright. I'll go have some breakfast and then I'm off to the market. You really need some maintenance now." Gabriel sighed.

"Do be careful, kid, okay? If the Dogs start sniffing, just leave it. I can handle another few days." Sam gave a sad laugh and went to open the trap door. "You always say that and I always end up with a creaky Doll who takes days to repair." Gabriel flashed a sneaky smile. "Maybe I like getting my joints greased up by you." Sam rolled his eyes, smiling. He dropped the rope down the opening in the floorboards and sat down at the edge.

"Be a good Doll and stay up here?" And with that, he slithered down into the attic and with a last smile, left the room. Gabriel pulled up the rope and closed the door, muttering to himself about not being able to climb down there even if he wanted.

-o-

The market was really busy that day, mostly because the sun finally came out. The citizens of New Albion were all chatting merrily around the stalls, gossiping and laughing. Sam was caught up in the good mood, stopping every once in a while to exchange a few kind words. His basket was already half full with fresh fruit and vegetables when he reached the mechanic's stand. The stall owner was an elderly man with big, round spectacles. He greeted Sam with a smile. "What can I do for you today, young man?" Sam looked over the variety of tools and trinkets laid out on the table.

 "Do you have any machine grease? The door hinges in the house are creaking awfully." The mechanic put a small container in front of him.

 "This should do it. Anything else?" Sam was about to tell him no and pay for the grease when a small, shiny box filled with metal beads caught his eye. "How much do those beads cost?" "Three coppers. You want them?" Sam nodded and the mechanic took the small box and the jar of grease to wrap them into some old newspapers.

 "Ten coppers total, if that is all." Sam handed over the money and stuffed the package into his basket, hiding it under a few apples and peaches. He wandered around the market for a few more minutes, looking for anything else he could need in the next few days. By the time he headed back home, he'd bought two new books and another set of cards. With a full basket and a considerably emptier pockets he left the market and headed back home.

He didn't get far though; around the market, Dogs were stationed, randomly searching people's bags and baskets for anything that might be illegal. Sam braced himself - he knew they were going to pick him. They always did. "McAlistair! What've you got there?" It was one of the Dogs from the day before, the eldest one. The young recruit was standing right next to him, looking a bit out of place with his open, curious eyes. Again, Sam wondered what he was doing as a Dog. He slowly walked over to the old Dog, never once giving in to the urge to tuck the machine grease deeper down into his basket.

"Just some food, books and stuff." The old Dog raised a brow. "Stuff?" Sam nodded and lifted the box of beads out of his basket. "Some metal beads I found. They'd make a nice present for a girl, don't you think?" he flashed his nicest smile at the Dogs, hoping they would leave him alone. The old Dog snorted and reached into his basket, pulling out the machine grease. "And this?" Sam shrugged. "Machine grease. The door hinges are a bit creaky in the house, I'm sure you noticed." The old Dog didn't look convinced, but took a step to the side. "See you in the evening, McAlistair." Sam nodded and continued his walk home, forcing himself to a slow, relaxed pace. He knew that the Dogs were still watching him.

Once home, he put away the food he bought and went on to grease up the door hinges, using as little of the stuff as possible. A raid in the evening was inevitable, he knew, and keeping up appearances was all he could do to stay alive. So he went on about his day as normally as possible, cooking and reading. He was almost halfway through one of his new books when there was a knock on the door. He went to open it, having no idea who to expect. It couldn't be the Dogs, the knock was way too polite. Sam opened the door to reveal his elderly neighbour, carrying a small plate of biscuits.

"Sam! May I come in? I baked some biscuits earlier, thought I'd share them with you."

"Sure thing, Mr Singer, do come in! Would you like some tea? I'll put the water on in a moment." Sam closed the door and led Mr Singer to the kitchen and filled the kettle from the tap. Putting it over the fire, he grabbed two cups from the cupboard, along with his finer box of tea, the one he kept for special occasions. He figured that after what his neighbour had been through, even having tea and biscuits were a special occasion. With everything set up he turned to his guest. Mr Singer was sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly playing with the edge of the tablecloth.

“There’s been quite a lot of raids here lately, boy.”

Sam shrugged.

“I know, it’s because of my grandfather. They’ll never leave me alone.”

Mr. Singer looked up at him with pensive eyes.

“Maybe you should take that Doll of yours and run away. They say there are towns in the East that readily help those running from New Albion. Don’t give me that look, boy, I know you still have your grandfather’s Doll hidden somewhere in this place. I was there when he told your poor grandmother about it and I know how much your father loved that thing. I’m sure he saved it from the flames, devoted as he was.”

The whistle of the kettle saved Sam from answering. He stiffly took it from the stove and poured the boiling water in the cups. Still facing away from the table, he added the tea filters, taking much more time than usual. Finally, he could stall no longer, and he took the tray to the table. Mr Singer took one of the cups and dropped a cube of sugar in it. Sam nibbled on biscuit while thinking about the old man’s words. Then, figuring he could trust him, he quietly spoke.

“I don’t know how I could get him out of the city unnoticed.”

Mr Singer chuckled quietly.

“Surely you must know of the underground tunnels the Doll-worshippers are building? They could help you get out, if you can persuade them to let one of the very last Dolls out of the city.”

Sam considered the idea for a moment before answering.

“But how do I find them?”

Mr Singer shrugged.

“Try the O’Brians. Jackie was a known worshipper and I highly doubt that she broke off contact with them after the Burning.”

Sam said nothing, but decided to talk to Gabriel about the plan to run away. For a while, they sipped their teas quietly, before turning to more pleasant conversation topics. Mr Singer only left when the first bell signalling the approaching curfew rang. Sam hadn’t had a conversation that rewarding in weeks.

-o-

The Dogs didn’t raid his house that evening, but they were still unpleasant to deal with when they came to his doors during the curfew check-ups. It was the same three officers as last night, the two old guys and the new recruit. Sam noticed that he was stealing glances at him, staring longingly when he thought that Sam wasn’t looking. He pretended not to notice. The attention gave him an uneasy feeling.

At night, after he finished fixing the creaky joints Gabriel refused to acknowledge, the two of them dragged their blankets under the small skylight in the ceiling and stared up at the stars for a long while, never once saying a word. Sam fell asleep eventually and Gabriel covered him, gently tucking the blankets around him before lying down beside him to watch over his sleep.

-o-

Sam ended up going to the market the next day again, hoping to catch Jackie O’Brian, but she was nowhere to be seen. He knew that asking would draw attention, so he continued his aimless wandering, stopping to chat with someone every once in a while.

He saw Mr Singer in front of a beer stand. He was chatting with the barkeep, but he looked over and noticed Sam. Their eyes met and the old man waved Sam over.

“Say Jim, have you met my neighbour yet?”, Mr Singer asked. Jim shook his head, and Sam extended a hand.

“Sam McAlistair, it’s nice to meet you.” Jim’s grip on his hand was firm and it felt like he could see right into his mind. Sam repressed a shudder. Mr Singer eyed him carefully before turning back to Jim.

“Sam here is interested in the history of this place, he told me so yesterday over tea. He asked me to help him find someone he could talk to about the times before the Dolls. I suggested the O’Brian lass, but I haven’t seen her in days! Do you have any idea where we could find her? The two of you used to be close friends if I’m correct.”

Jim smiled sourly.

“I haven’t laid eyes on Jackie for weeks, either. After all that happened to poor Dorothy, she started drinking. I’d tell you to try the pubs, but don’t have much hope for conversation. She’s most likely too drunk to even recognize you.”

Mr Singer raised his glass in thanks and downed the contents in one long swallow. He gave Jim some coppers and led Sam away with a hand on his shoulders. They started towards the closest pub that was hidden in a side street.

“Who’s Dorothy?”

“Jackie and Dorothy were sweethearts, before the Burning. They were both devoted Doll-worshippers, voodoopunks, as they called them back then. Dorothy was quite rich and the two of them were known for throwing the most flamboyant parties you could ever imagine. But after the Burning, they took Dorothy away, God knows where. I have no idea how Jackie escaped the Dogs, they must’ve known that both of them were involved with the Dolls at the time.”

They entered the run-down pub nestled between two old clothing stores. As their eyes adjusted to the half-shadows and cigarette smoke of the room, they went up to the bar. There was a frail woman sitting on a high stool, one elbow resting on the marble, hand propping her head up. Her other hand nursed a half-empty glass of what looked like scotch.

“Been a while since we’ve met, Jackie”, Mr Singer said. The woman looked up, eyes unfocused. She sneered at them and turned back to her glass.

“Never would’ve thought you be the type to come to this bar, Bob” she chuckled drunkenly, mostly to herself. “What a good-looking companion you have here. He your son?” At that, she broke out into a hysterical laugh that soon turned into sobbing. “Oh, Bob, I always forget that none of us have anyone anymore. No wives, no children, no nothing…”

Sam had to look away. Mr Singer said something to the barkeep, handing him a few coins before leading Sam out of the pub.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, boy.”

-o-

Sam returned home in a sour mood that day. Mr Singer tried to console him after their meeting with Jackie O’Brian, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no way to contact the underground Doll-worshippers without raising suspicion from the Dogs. And there was also the knowledge that he would have to confront Gabriel about his plans of running away from the city and he had no illusions about how that would go down.

His mood wasn’t improved by the sight of the young Dog recruit waiting on the front steps of his house, either. The boy was out of uniform, but he still the hair and Sam’s nape stand up. Uniform or no uniform, Dogs were always Dogs, and even a young, innocent-looking one could very well mean the end of his life. Still, the boy had already spotted him, so he steeled himself and approached him.

“Can I help you?”

The young Dog chewed on his lips for a moment, looking around as though being watched. Sam followed his glance – there were only a few passer-by and none of them were Dogs. Sam sighed. “All right, you can come in if that makes you more comfortable”, he said as he moved to unlock the front door. At that, the young Dog stepped in front of him with a panicked expression.

“No, thank you, I… I’m fine here. I just… I came here to warn you that the bosses think that you are hiding something, and they’ll come and raid your house again and I just thought that you should prepare for that because they will bring more people than usual and…”

“Stop, please! Why are you telling me this?” Sam was suspicious, but the boy just blushed and mumbled something under his breath.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

The boy blushed harder and repeated. “Idontwantyoutogethurt.” And with that, he took off half-running down the street. Sam stood staring after him for several minutes, trying to make sense of the boy before he decided that he better go inside and prepare for that approaching raid.

-o-

The boy was right, that evening there were eight Dogs there to turn the house upside-down, showing no respect for anything, tearing off some of the ancient tapestries and leaving an awful mess in their wake. It took hours to clean up, and even then, some of the worst damage Sam had to leave to fix the next day.

His only solace was that they failed to find the trap door in the attic again. So after cleaning up as best as he could he knocked on the wood again and climbed up into the tiny room with Gabriel, bringing a pack of cards that he'd bought the day before. With the joints in his fingers freshly greased, Gabriel had little trouble with picking up the cards; they played for long hours before Sam gathered up the courage to bring up his talk with Mr Singer and Jackie to Gabriel, unwilling to ruin the calm that settled between them.

“Mr Singer knows you are here.”

The cards clattered to the desk from Gabriel’s hands and he clumsily tried to pick them up. Sam helped him, trying to smile soothingly.

“He will not tell the Dogs. He suggested that we run away, to the cities in the East.”

“There is no way we could get out of the city unnoticed, Sam. It’s no use.”

Sam sighed, and drew a new card. “If we stay, they’ll find you eventually. You know if it weren’t for you, I’d have left this place already – there is nothing keeping me here but you. I wish you would come with me, Gabriel.”

They played for a while, Sam trying to figure out what Gabriel was thinking about, but seeing nothing on his metal features. Finally, Gabriel placed is cards on the table.

“I could go. They would find me somewhere, trying to escape. No-one would realise that you were the one hiding me all along…”

“No!”

“Sam, listen to me. I was already dead when your great-grandmother invented the technology that powers the Dolls. She brought me back, against my will, and I’ve been in this town ever since, always wanting to just leave… I didn’t feel like I belonged here, in this life, Sam, and I’m still not sure. You are the reason I’m still here, you and your love for me. Of all the people who kept me over all these years, you are the only one I've loved. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t continue to live, to exist here without you.”

Sam was pale, tears glimmering in his eyes. His voice was shaking as he tried to answer. “So you’re only alive because of me? You’re enduring this life, this horrible place because of me? As much as I love you, that is not something I would want for anyone!”

Gabriel reached out to take Sam’s hands in his. “Sam… I…”

“I can’t ask you to flee with me if what you really want is to die”, said Sam brokenly, staring down at their joined hands on the table.

“And I can’t ask you to live in this damned place just because of me.”

For a while, they said nothing. But after what seemed like hours, Sam stood and drew Gabriel with him to their nest of blankets. They held each other tight, even foregoing the usual blankets separating them.

-o-

Sam was absentmindedly chopping vegetables for his lunch when he saw the group of Dogs marching down the street, heading to the town centre. He walked over to the window, and caught sight of the young recruit at the back of the group. He thought of what the boy told him about the raids and shuddered. He knew that the secret entrance in the attic was well-concealed, but he also knew that nothing was good enough, when it came to the Dogs. How they didn’t find it already was baffling, but now that he knew that Gabriel was not happy, he just couldn’t help but feel terrible about hiding up there. Sam turned from the window to resume his chopping, passing the wall-mounted telephone on the way. He stopped suddenly and considered the device for a moment, an idea coming to him. A plan.

He dialled with shaking hands, stopping at the last number before gathering up the courage to finish. The automated voice telling him to wait for an operator sent shivers down his spine. He only had to listen to a few seconds of cheesy music before a cheerful female voice greeted him.

“New Albion police station, what is your emergency?”

Sam took a deep breath.

“I would like to report a felony.”

-o-

Sam helped Gabriel down from the hidden room to the main attic. The Dogs certainly would not come that day, they were all having some training in the town centre, he lied. Gabriel nodded and sat on a dusty couch, disbelief visible even on his unmoving face.

“Sam? What have you done?”

Sam smiled at him at moved to sit on the couch. He laid his head on Gabriel’s shoulders and took his hands.

“I found a way out.”

As if on cue, someone started banging on the door. Sam didn’t move. Gabriel tried to get up, tried to go and climb back up into his hiding place, but Sam didn’t let him.

“Let them come.”

Gabriel stopped struggling, and laughed bitterly. The Dogs finally broke down the entrance door and it only took them a few minutes to find them sitting there, on the dusty couch in the attic. Sam spotted the young recruit at the back, looking uncomfortable and slightly panicked. As the pack leader started reciting their crimes and sentence, they stood, still holding hands. As the Dogs raised their guns, Sam closed his eyes and squeezed Gabriel’s hand. And then a flash of pain... and then nothing.

-o-

The young recruit lowered his gun, his finger still on the trigger. He didn’t fire – simply couldn’t, not when he saw the desperation in the Doll’s eyes and the fierce expression of the young man standing next to it. He barely registered his commanding officer yelling at him, asking why he disobeyed the order; he couldn’t stop staring at the two bodies on the floor.

The next day, he stole the biggest dose of truth serum he could from the headquarters of the Dogs and dumped it all into the water supply of the Parliament. The resulting civil war destroyed almost the entire town – he watched it burn, and thought of the handsome young man and the Doll who died for love.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr!
> 
> Also, listen to the wonderful musical inspiration HERE. 
> 
> And thank you platonic-rabbit for the beta!


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